Page 53 of The Wind and the Wild (The Keepers of Faerie #1)

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A rrived ” seems a tad dramatic on Emma’s part, particularly when most fae who will slip out the borders tonight, here and all along the other places of our kingdom where the faerie realm meets mortal, are nothing like Aidyn.

Perhaps in other villages, other border cities, other places wild enough, the Gentry themselves come dancing with the people who dwell along their borders.

For the most part, there will be little brownies and goblins and all sorts of nameless small things that will climb into our hair or onto our roofs and into the food we’ ve prepared.

Still, the low shrill of the unknown horn over the treetops has a twist of excitement worming its way up my chest. It is the closest our two worlds come to becoming one, and even Aidyn’s presence these past few weeks does not blind me to the wonder.

I never have discovered what causes the noise, and neither has anyone I’ve ever spoken to.

Birds flock over the hazy horizon, landing in trees and watching us with low lids and large eyes. Other than a few rustles in the trees and grasses, there is not much else to announce them. Nothing else, at least, but the shift in the air I can only now describe as magic.

“ Ahh, they’re here ! ” Una sings, prancing out the door to hug me from behind, almost tipping both of us over. Conspiratorial, she stands on her toes to whisper into my ear, “ What if he arrives?”

My cheeks turn hot. Imagining Aidyn among the villagers, even on midsummer, has a laugh bubbling up my chest. “ I would never hear the end of it, that’s what.”

“ Mmm, it would be amazing... and hilarious for me. Let’s put our dresses on!”

“ I have the last batch to put in. I’ll help with yours.”

After I slide Una’s dress over her shoulders, we take a look at her in the little mirror against the side of her wall. Finally finished, it is a fall of cream lace and pale green that sets off her eyes and hair perfectly.

I wasn’t particularly worried about how I would look at midsummer, not without anyone to dance with—now I’m slightly more concerned about my lack of interest.

At least my dress is blue like the end of a summer sky.

As I help Una into her ribbons and lace, I try my very best to picture Aidyn here, in the village, but can’t wrap my head about it.

Just because I saw him in this side of the human woods while we were searching for mushrooms does not mean he would melt into a gathering of humans.

Even hidden by all the bodies of those brought together to dance in torchlight through the night, I can’t imagine he would not stand out.

Given I stand tall enough as most men, I’m not sure there’s anyone in this village or the next few joining us who would be taller than our resident library faerie.

With the last of the pastries in the oven and the rest on their way to the festivities courtesy of Niall, his friends, and some of the neighbor kids—who are certainly going to be eating them as they go—I let Una haul me into her room and take me out of the apron and old dress I’ve been wearing for all the cooking.

She rambles on about how handsome Niall looks in something other than the clothes he wears for smithing and ignores when I grin at her.

My dress is a simple thing—less likely to be caught on any undergrowth if I end up escaping into the woods at some point—but swoops a tad lower than my others and better hugs my waist and shows off my shoulders.

“ Let me do something with your hair!” Una practically cries as I slip on some of the softer, daintier shoes I don’t usually have cause to wear. They’re comfortable enough for dancing, particularly since my ankle isn’t hurting nearly as much.

“ I like it down! There’s not much of it.”

“ Yes, and I like it just a little pulled back in the front. Come over here.”

After fifteen minutes of wrangling a few front locks of my hair into the perfect twists, Una deems I am beautiful and ready to dance before all the men from the next village over.

From the other room, Emma snorts as if she knows I have a particular man in mind I now wish would appear on the day when the faerie world opens to the human.

“ Are you coming?” I ask, checking the ribbons on the back of my dress absently as I find Emma on the front porch.

“ In a bit. I like to watch the dancing. Right now everyone is getting drunk and playing games.”

I snort. Everyone will be happily into the wine all afternoon and night until we fall into sleep sometime early next morning.

There’re usually one or two scuffles, but nothing serious.

It is midsummer, and the magic of the realm beside ours hangs thick in the air.

We are drunk on it as much as any human wine we’ve mulled, and that is a different type of intoxication entirely.

“ Don’t anger any fae!” Emma calls after us as Una and I go trotting down the path, hand in hand. I wave back over my head.

“ Yes, Niamh, don’t anger any fae,” Una hisses, half joking, half glaring.

“ I don’t know why you’re telling me. Obviously, they find me delightful.”

She scoffs, then laughs properly.

The festival has exploded across the valley with a colorful tapestry of open-walled tents with ribbons drifting from the tops, the maypole’s scraps of pure-white fabric being wound about and about by children, and the impossible mess of dancers who have already begun bouncing about the flattened grasses.

In the shadows of the trees casting longer and longer fingers of shade across the land, and with the fiddles that have taken up harmonizing, it seems almost as if there must be fae dancing within them.

More music seems to join in, though I cannot pinpoint the source or the sweet sound of the instrument.

Despite all our little jokes and warnings about Faerie, Una pauses with me and inhales shakily, eyes catching mine.

I grin. We only receive the smallest bit of faerie magic at midsummer, and still, we’re nearly drunk on it before the sun has set.

It is only by the help of the fears and stories sunk into our minds since childhood that folk are not lulled into the woods at night.

Even so, every few years, there is always a man or woman who wanders off into the gloaming woods to stumble back at dawn, left over from being drunk, remembering nothing but whispering of lovely things.

They are themselves again after a few days, and I’ve always wondered what kind of peace we have strung with the fae that they only come out for a few fun hours on a warm midsummer night before retreating forever and eternally into their woods.

Until one in particular holed himself up in a little library on the edge of the mortal trees.

I smile.

“ Masks,” Una whispers, dragging me sideways to one of the carts of paper masks the children have made.

I pull one off the top, not entirely seeing it, rubbing the layers of pulpy paper between my fingers.

When I glance down, it somewhat resembles a fox, though the faces are nothing in particular.

Smirking, I tie it over my face, my mouth left exposed, and laugh at Una with her somewhat-rabbit-resembling mask, complete with flowers, hopping after the toddlers, who are shrieking and laughing.

Bonfires are being lit on the edges of the dancing, where no one is likely to get too close, along with smaller ones for roasting meat and vegetables.

Even the children are already gathering the wildflowers growing along the edges of the trees.

Niall will need to hurry if he’s going to gather any for Una.

“ Niall’s somewhere,” Una says, prancing back to me and grasping both hands. “ Let’ s dance! ”

I trot after her, avoiding running children, until we’re swallowed up by the bodies of our families and friends from the next villages dancing and singing.

As evening settles into night, all three villages have finally arrived in full, and Una has dragged me into dancing more times than my ankle appreciates.

I find a seat on the edge of the field, closer to the village than the trees, and eat a slice of roasted ham.

A little creature flies by on papery wings, tries to grab the slice, and immediately flutters off with a series of angry noises before I can even pull away a smaller piece.

Leaning over to watch it leave, I chuckle and wonder what name Aidyn would know for it.

I glance into the trees and force myself not to sigh.

My plum pie was successfully delivered to the judges, two of the older women from our village and another half dozen from the two villages over, and now all I have to do is wait.

Pushing my silly paper mask onto my forehead, I try to find Una and Niall in the mix of bodies and bouncing dancers but can’t quite pick out her lacy dress or the pale flowery mask she chose.

I do, however, spot the man attempting to make eye contact with me across all the dancing and ribbons.

I should’ve kept my mask on.

I don’t suppose it would’ve made much of a difference—there aren’t many women with reddish hair in all the three villages.

Finishing my ham and licking the salt from my fingers, I drag my mask back into place and slide to my feet, determined to disappear into the swirl of bodies. Perhaps Emma has decided to join the festivities. Hiding next to her and her walking stick seems like a fine idea—

Blain drops off the wheel of one of the wagons encircling the field and heads in my direction.

“ Fantastic, ” I mutter. I’ve had a small glass of wine and am not feeling terribly polite. Not even the faerie magic hanging in the air is going to help.

I imagine I’d become rather unpleasant if Blain were to be in my vicinity after I’d drunk that strange strong wine Aidyn had.

Perhaps if I put Blain and Aidyn in the same room with Aidyn a little drunk . . .

I snort, then clear my throat.